Jackie: It's One AM...do you know where YOUR muses are?

RakitWhore: I know where yours are...unfortunately.

Draco-muse: Another one down...we're on a roll tonight.

Takeru-muse: I still have you beat on editing. You'd have to finish one more tonight to tie my record.

Draco-muse: Can we do it, Jackie?

Jackie: Unless I fall asleep at the computer (again), we may even get through two more tonight...leaving tomorrow open for writing a new chapter.

Draco-muse: HOORAY!

Takeru-muse: No fair! When I was doing it, she had a 10 o'clock bedtime.

RakitWhore: Sucks to be the early still-living-at-home muse, don't it?

Jackie: Enjoy!


Chapter 4: Lymph Nodes

Ron and Draco sat in uncomfortable silence for well over an hour. Draco's headache had eased, but only to the point of a tolerable throb. He felt slightly less dizzy than earlier, but fast movements still made his head swim, so he remained as still as possible. He hadn't yet gotten over the shock of the blood test, and continued to touch the large bruise forming on his arm tenderly. Boredom began to overcome him, and he started counting the dots on the ceiling, trying to push his random thought about Ron from his mind.

The boredom was starting to get to Ron as well. His mind wandered to subjects ranging from the Transfiguration test that he was now going to fail, to exactly how many points Snape had unfairly taken from Gryffindor over the years. The one thing he tried not to think about was the blonde lying a few feet away from him. He hoped that whatever this was would be over and done with in a few days, maybe a week; some kind of virus, maybe mono. Anything that would get him away from Draco and away from the very disturbing thoughts that kept trying to break into his mind. However, all the signs paired with a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told Ron that this would be something that would change their two young lives forever. The last thing Ron needed was a common experience with Draco Malfoy.

"Weasley." Draco's voice broke the silence, and Ron glanced up in acknowledgement. "I want you to promise me something."

Ron cocked his head, puzzled. Malfoy, asking something of him? "What would that be?"

Draco swallowed hard. "I want you to promise that you won't tell anyone about this, no matter what it turns out to be."

Ron shifted his weight to his elbow, and looked straight into Draco's face. "Why would I? I mean, what would it look like if people found out I spent an entire day looking after you?"

"I'm serious, Weas…Ron. I mean it. If it gets out that I'm not entirely well, or worse…I just don't want people to know about it." Draco's eyes pleaded with Ron's, and a pang of guilt once again hit him dead on. He actually used my first name. He really does mean it. "Alright then…Draco. I won't tell a soul."

Draco smiled at him in thanks...an actual, soft smile. But as soon as the look appeared, it was wiped off his face and he stared back up at the ceiling.

The sun outside had long since sunk under the horizon. Inside, most students were studying or socializing in their common rooms before bed, and there was a constant hum of energy and activity. In the Hospital Wing, however, there was almost no activity whatsoever. Once again, Draco had fallen asleep, feeling like he was completely drained all energy, and with the knowledge that there were 4,783 dots on the ceiling that he could see. Even Ron had drifted off into a light sleep in his chair by the time Madame Pomfrey returned from her office. "Alright boys, we're going to make a little trip tonight."

Ron rubbed his eyes and straightened himself in the chair. "What d'you mean?" Draco had managed with some difficulty to prop himself up on his elbows. "Is it far?" he asked, not completely sure of his body's new limitations. He didn't want to have to walk too far.

"Well, technically it is far, but then again, it isn't. Mr. Malfoy, you have an appointment to see Dr. Kyra Chantelle at The Royal Marsden Hospital in London tonight." As she spoke, she began clearing a path away from the bed to her office.

"And how, exactly, are we supposed to get to a muggle hospital all the way in London?" Draco asked, trying to retain his trademark haughtiness behind an exhausted and nervous voice. "I mean, we can't exactly walk through the door and, poof, we're in London. I doubt they're connected to the Floo Network."

The nurse smiled slyly. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. You haven't learned, in all your time as a wizard, that there are unlimited ways to get where you need to be?"

Ron and Draco gave each other puzzled looks as Madame Pomfrey crossed the room to what appeared to be a normal closet door. "Come on then," she called them, "we don't want to be late." Ron stood up and stretched, then stopped mid-yawn. "Why do I have to go, too? It's Malfoy's appointment." The nurse put her hands on her hips. "If he passes out again, do you honestly think that I'll be able to get him back here on my own? Dr. Chantelle isn't very big either. I need you in case of an emergency." Rolling his eyes, Ron offered Draco a shoulder to lean on as he climbed out of the bed, and they both walked over and stood in front of the "closet".

When Pomfrey opened the door, Ron and Draco both took a step backward. Instead of the expected clutter and supplies, there was instead a swirling, almost psychedelic cloud-like portal. Draco blinked rapidly and started to fall backwards; Ron stepped behind him and caught his shoulders. "Just close your eyes," he whispered, "and you'll be fine." Draco nodded and shut his eyes, but felt himself blush as Ron's breath grazed his ear. Ron himself was trying to figure out why he'd whispered. Both shook off the strange feelings, and with Ron supporting Draco from behind, stepped into the portal, followed by Madame Pomfrey.


As soon as they stepped through, Draco and Ron found themselves in a normal-looking muggle exam room, except there was a large microscope set up in one corner attached to a computer. The room itself was all white except for the light-blue trim and the surgical steel instruments. There were three stools with dark red upholstery spread about the small room, as well as a large exam table covered in thin white paper.

Standing in the middle of the room was a small, owlish-looking woman in a pair of lavender scrubs. She had her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head, and wore thin half-moon glasses. She was smiling as they walked through the portal, as if she'd been expecting them. She reached out a hand to Madame Pomfrey as she stepped forward; her voice was pleasant and soft, and her accent told of time spent in France as well as Britain.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Chantelle, it's nice to see you in person again Madame Pomfrey!" Draco raised an eyebrow. The young doctor smiled at him. "I attended Hogwarts my last two years in school to intern with Madame Pomfrey." Ron's jaw dropped. "You're a witch?" She turned to Ron. "Yes, in fact, I am. I just prefer to work in muggle medicine rather than in the magical world. Now, which one of you is Draco?"

Draco took a step forward, and she returned her eyes to his. "You? Alright then, why don't you hop up on the table and we'll try and figure out what's going on with that body of yours." (A/N- After a whole year of no French class, I can still hear the Allez, Viens! lady clear as a bell. Think her voice.)

The paper crinkled audibly beneath him as Draco pulled himself onto the cold table, and Ron took a seat on one of the stools close by. Draco looked like a little child at his first check-up (well, actually, it was his first real muggle check-up). He was glancing around the room nervously and swinging his legs back and forth off the side of the table. Ron too was looking around nervously, taking special notice in the various posters on the walls, depicting everything from a cross section of the human brain, to a particularly colorful one featuring blobs of red, white, and purple, and a cross-section of bone.

The examination began pretty routinely, with the whole tongue depressor bit and everything. Draco was pretty indifferent about everything, except the thermometer. He hated holding that damn thing under his tongue for two long minutes, and constantly fidgeted with it in his mouth, causing some funny faces and getting great laughs out of Ron. When Dr. Chantelle finally took it out, he still felt an indentation on the bottom of his tongue where it was, and it made his mouth feel strange. She shook it and read the mercury level. "Uh oh...38.7. You have quite a fever there." She wrote this down on her little clipboard, then started checking his eyes and ears, and began asking questions. "I hear you've been having headaches, Draco. About where do they hurt the worst? What time?"

"Have you had much of an appetite lately?"

"Have you noticed any difference in your sleep patterns? Any unexplained fatigue?"

"I heard something about nosebleeds; how often do you get them? How long do they last?"

Ron couldn't help but think that, as innocent as they sounded, her questions were just a tad too specific for comfort. She knows what's wrong with him, I just know it. Why won't she just come out and say it?

She wrote all of his answers down on her clipboard, and then set it down on the table next to Draco. "Tilt your head to the left, please," she asked him, and he did. Instead of running her fingers down his neck like Madame Pomfrey had, she placed two fingers directly on the spot beneath Draco's ear. Once again, Draco winced. "Does that hurt, sweetie?" she asked, removing her hand. Draco nodded slightly.

"Raise your arm now, please." Once again, he did as she asked, and once again, her fingers found the one spot that made Draco wince. "Your lymph nodes are swollen; that's not a good sign. Why don't you lie back on the table for a moment?"

Draco swung his legs back on to the table and laid down. He was able to see Ron sitting at the head of the table, who smirked at him in a way that was almost comforting. It was familiar, it was mocking, and it was distracting. Draco was about to say something, when Dr. Chantelle placed one hand firmly on a spot just below Draco's ribs on the left side.

"OOWW!"

Draco slightly doubled over as the doctor removed her hand. "Ouch. What was that?" he asked, rubbing his side tenderly, and noticing for the first time that even the slight touch of his hand was sending jolts of pain through his side.

Dr. Chantelle was scribbling notes onto her clipboard again. "Evidently, it was a swollen spleen…another not-so-good sign for you. I'll tell you what…I'm going to need another blood sample, and a marrow sample. After that, you're free to return to school until tomorrow morning. By then, I'll have your answers."

Draco paled as he watched Dr. Chantelle pulled various needles and substances from her cabinets. She first took another blood sample, this time cleaning his arm with alcohol first. She saw Draco start at the sight of the needle, as well as the fresh bruise on his arm, and smiled, remembering her first exposure to hypodermic needles. "It helps if you don't look while it's happening. Look at your friend instead."

"What friend?" Draco said as he looked around. Oh, she thinks that Weasely's my friend. Draco stared at Ron, and it was Ron's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Doctor's orders," Malfoy said with a smirk, which lasted approximately two seconds before he felt the needle go in. Then it was Ron's turn to smirk. "Not so tough now, are you, Malfoy?"

"All done."

Sure enough, it was over sooner that Draco expected. He turned back to see her strapping a cotton ball in a thin bandage over the crook in his arm. "Now for the marrow sample. This one's a little different." She snapped off her latex gloves and donned a new pair. "I need you to pretend that you're a model for a second. Lie back down and kind of pull your pants down so that I can get to your hip...like this." Dr. Chantelle hooked a finger under the elastic of her scrubs and bared a section of her hip. "You don't have to expose anything...I just need to have access to your pelvic bone."

Draco lay back down and did what the doctor had demonstrated; Ron snickered, then blushed, at the mental image of Draco modeling a bikini in one of Fred and George's old magazines that they kept hidden from their mum. Draco shot him a nasty look. Dr. Chantelle sat down on another stool and slid over to the table. "Okay, first, I'm going to give you a local anesthetic. It'll feel like a bee sting for a second, but then you won't feel anything but pressure, okay?"

Nodding nervously, Draco wondered what a bee sting felt like…then found out as the tiny needle entered the sensitive skin of his hip. Draco bit his tongue uncomfortably, trying not to move in case something went wrong. Soon, the area surrounding the needle went numb, and he felt no pain as the larger needle penetrated skin and muscle, but he felt lots of pressure as the needle drew out a teaspoon of bone marrow. His face contorted in discomfort, but he tried to remain as still as possible. The doctor smiled as she snapped the elastic up on his pants and patted his side as a cue that he could sit up. "You may be a little stiff tomorrow, but it's only temporary. Other than that, you're done for today!"

Ron stood up to help Malfoy jump painfully down from the table. He started to walk away, when Dr. Chantelle's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going, Mr. Weasely?" Ron's eyes got wide as he turned slowly, and saw her standing with an empty syringe in the hand that wasn't holding him back. "You haven't ever had an exam, either, and it would be best in this day and age if you had a couple of basic tests run, too. Sit down."

Nervously, Ron climbed up on the table. As the doctor rubbed his arm with alcohol, he instinctively locked eyes with Malfoy. It was Draco's turn to smirk once again, as Ron's eyes flinched as the needle went in. "Not so tough now, are you, Weasely?"

"Shove it, Malfoy."


Jackie: Wow...I must have gotten better as time progressed. That chapter took no time at all to fix.

RakitWhore: I know I'm supposed to continue in Agent Blorange's footsteps, but...girl, you're a good writer. Just because you were bad during one summer doesn't mean you suck completely!

Draco-muse: THANK YOU! I've been trying to tell her that for years.

Takeru-muse: Not as long as I have.

Draco-muse: Seventy-two reviews.

Takeru-muse: S...s...seventy? Two? Oh my... ((drops to ground and starts sucking his thumb))

RakitWhore: Must you degrade him so?

Takeru-muse: He's more of a challenge than you are.

RakitWhore: Shove it, Malfoy.

Jackie: Lame. And you say I'm the dork. Well...stay tuned!